


time limit

by from the corners (linguale)



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Ambiguous Relationships, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Atlanta Braves, Blow Jobs, M/M, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-07 11:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20975135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linguale/pseuds/from%20the%20corners
Summary: “I’m going home.” Josh doesn’t pull his hand away. “The season’s over, my contract’s up.” He pauses again. “We’re not teammates anymore, Freddie.”





	time limit

**Author's Note:**

> “We’re not here today without Freddie. [...] At the end of the day, Freddie’s one of the best players in the game and I enjoyed being his teammate, his friend, and, you know, sharing the same uniform.” josh i wasn’t sad enough already but alright i’ll cry some more
> 
> warning: one (1) mention of troy tulowitzki

“Where are you going?” Freddie grabs Josh’s hand when he tries to leave the clubhouse.

Josh is quiet. A rare sight.

“I’m going home.” He doesn’t pull his hand away. “The season’s over, my contract’s up.” He pauses again. “We’re not teammates anymore, Freddie.” 

They’re better than this, they showed that in the regular season, but game five was shitshow. If Josh believed in luck or baseball magic, then he’d consider it bad karma leading to the end. He remembers his comment about how some guys slump at the end of the season to get hot in the post. He’d say that getting swept in the final series might’ve meant something.

But baseball’s weird that way; they’ve fought back before, countless times even. 

Just not this one. It can’t be fixed by one person. 

Freddie still doesn’t let go. 

“You know you’re gonna get an offer to stay. You have a spot here. It’s not like...” Freddie swallows and shakes his head. 

“It’s not like what?” 

“It’s not like you were a waste.” Freddie sighs. To Josh it looks like his shoulders are trying to sink below his feet. “You were here to be our offense, but you were more than that. You were here to protect me, but how last month went, what does that matter if I’m not worth protecting?” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Josh drops his bag so he can grab Freddie’s shirt. “Don’t let me hear you say that shit again.” His face is close to Freddie’s now, seething. “Just,” Josh takes a deep breath and backs away, “you can’t say that. Everyone wants to be you.” He’s already small next to Freddie, but he feels tiny with his staring and scrutinizing. He doesn’t know where Freddie read between the lines in what he said, but the crease in his brow makes it seem like he’s trying to figure something out. “So many people look up to you, want to play baseball like you, hit like you do, want to be a fraction of who you are as a person.” Josh says as he lets go of the collar. Sighs again. Shakes his head, but keeps looking him in the eye. “You’re the reason people want to be here, why they want to stay here.”

“Just stay.” Freddie whispers, tugs on his hand for emphasis. He knows Freddie means right now. Tonight. Freddie has four months and some change until spring training while Josh has a void. He doesn’t have the other kind of “stay” in his hands.

He knows he hesitates too long when Freddie has to pull his hand again. He doesn’t know when he got the upperhand, when Josh wasn’t consoling him anymore or if he ever was, but he gives in; lets Freddie grab the bag Josh dropped, lead him into the car where Freddie drives with the windows down to avoid the radio. Instead of white noise in his head, it’s all around and swirling, deafening and brisk where his head is shaved and his neck bare where his cardigan doesn’t reach.

Josh doesn’t know how long the drive is, when they left, or what the time is now. He feels the plastic door frame on his forehead and his fingers pulling and pinching his arm to try to feel something, but he’s just cold. He’s been cold since the final out though.

They go somewhere he doesn’t recognize; a small brownstone building that looks more like an old-fashioned firehouse than anything else. It takes a second for him to realize it’s an apartment complex. He knows this isn’t Freddie’s place.

He doesn’t know how, but his mind catches up when he’s following Freddie up the stairs, turn, up another flight, and they reach the top floor with keys jingling in Freddie’s hand when he twists the lock. The place is grossly neutral, everything shades of bland grays on top of scuffed pine hardwood, except for the flannel button-ups on the back of the couch. Nothing on the walls besides cabinets and shelves, but it all blends into a similar hue. 

Freddie drops his keys on the kitchen counter and bags under the breakfast bar. It’s a blur how Josh got to sitting with a couple fingers of scotch in his hand—his second, he remembers throwing back the first the second he had a grip on the glass. He feels like he’s living in stop motion. Josh tips his head back, looking up at the ceiling and spotting spiderwebs in the corners. Freddie grabs his hand again, but they stay on Josh’s thigh. He’s been like this with Josh the whole season, forward but a little shy; he doesn’t do anything when Josh is looking, like he’s not supposed to notice. 

Josh swallows. “I wanted to get you a ring.” He breathes out. 

“Yeah, well,” Freddie pushes back at Josh’s fingers with his fingertips like he’s pressing sticky piano keys that don’t let go of his fingers, “it’ll come when it comes if that’s how it works out. It’s just not how it played out today.” Freddie looks down at their hands. “I wanted to win it for you.”

Josh turns his head to analyze him, like looking at his right cheek would help him understand if that was a joke. 

“You told me once that you breathe life into teams. It was early on, probably after some stupid question you got in an interview. You carry teams on your shoulders when they’re grasping at straws and they carry you while you’re getting back to form. The give and take that all teams have, but you make it your responsibility to give us that will.” Freddie finally leans back, leans his head back, and looks at Josh. “We were supposed to win it for you. A legendary comeback with a team that no one expected to win. A fairy tale, but you deserve a fantasy like that.” Freddie’s talking just above a whisper, anything more isn’t necessary when Josh can feel Freddie’s breath on his nose.

He doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he doesn’t. Josh doesn’t want to admit he wanted that too, doesn’t want to admit that he wanted it for Freddie, consistently the bright spot of the team through almost a decade, stuck with it through a rebuild where he was the only one left standing when trades were done. He was the star that couldn’t shine through that fog, because people only see outstanding players when they’re on outstanding teams. 

They were supposed to be that team this year.

“I don’t want to think anymore.”

Freddie blinks, nods, sits up to put their glasses on the table, and comes back to fill his vision. Unlike the other times, Josh kisses him slowly, collecting the seconds he has with him now that there’s a time limit. He tries to remember how his hands feel, where his calluses are on his fingers and palms, tries to brand in his mind how Freddie’s tongue feels in his mouth before inevitably time’s up. 

It feels like another blink and they’re on a bed with shirts off and Freddie fumbling at his belt. Josh is thinking _”no, no, no I needed to remember, this isn’t fair,”_ and it scares him how much he’s already losing track.

“No, wait.” Josh takes Freddie’s hands off his belt, and unbuckles Freddie’s instead. “I want to choke on you.” Freddie groans at that. Josh pulls his pants and boxer briefs enough so his cock springs out, giving it a few tugs after he licks his palm. It’s been a while since he’s blown anyone, not since Troy came to Atlanta to tell him about his retirement face-to-face and Josh felt more of himself chip away. With Freddie, it’s been rushed and frantic in hotel rooms everywhere but Atlanta, Josh gets fucked, and they split ways. They haven’t taken the time like this. Neither thought their end would have a date in October. 

They were supposed to have time. 

Josh shimmies out of his pants and gets on his knees while Freddie lies back against the headboard. He kisses Freddie again with a hand on his chest and the other on his thigh, skin pale from lack of exposure, but soft and warm. He wants to treat Freddie right, romance him as properly as he can with taking his time and putting more effort into the foreplay and trying to be gentle with him, give him what he deserves. It’s not in his blood to be gentle though, the hand on his chest falls down, dragging his nails while it does leaving pink paths down his sternum and his belly.

He finally mouths at Freddie’s dick. It’s been longer since he’s done this too, had a cock back to his throat, but choking doesn’t require finesse. He can tell Freddie’s worried with the hand on Josh’s cheek instead of the back of his head or in his hair, but he’s not being pulled away. His thumb brushes away the tears that come. As much as he wants to finish and have the taste come on his tongue, he can’t. It’d be too fast, too easy.

“Lube?” Josh asks when he pulls off and sits up. Freddie reaches under a pillow, but doesn’t hand it over.

“I want to. Please?” Josh shrugs. He normally does it himself, he didn’t want to risk Freddie’s shyness taking over or that he’d take too long and do it too well. He’d been craving that burn when it’s barely not enough. It’d fade fast enough, usually when they’re still and waiting to be used to the feeling.

He waits for Freddie to move behind him to get back down on his elbows. He hears Freddie shed his pants, feels a hand at the small of his back and soon enough one, two, three fingers pulling him apart. 

He was right: Freddie takes care of him; he asks “is this okay,” and “do you need more time,” until Josh snaps that he’ll just do it himself if Freddie doesn’t get on with it. He doesn’t want to feel good, but he wants to feel something. He’s selfish enough having Freddie like this. 

He finally feels his dick replacing fingers and the air gets punched out of his lungs when Freddie bottoms out. He’s on his hands and knees over Josh, his left hand tries to find Josh’s, so he twists his arm from under his head to give it to Freddie. It’s not long before he has Josh clutching the sheets and grinding his teeth with constant jabs at his prostate; they’ve done this long enough where it seems effortless. He wants to reach down and get himself off, but it’s something Freddie likes to do, likes to be sweet and try to get them to come together even though Freddie almost always orgasms first and Josh has to wait until he gets back to himself to pull out and remember Josh hasn’t gotten off yet. 

Instead, he pushes his hips back so he gets the hint and soon enough a hand wraps around him. Josh feels a kiss on his shoulder before Freddies thrusts harder. Josh is moaning obnoxiously now, but it feels good and it finally feels like they’re on the same page in one way because he’s so close. It only takes a couple more thrusts and Josh comes, his hand squeezing Freddie’s where his bones must be getting crushed, but he feels Freddie sigh and his hips stutter when he comes too. 

Freddie goes boneless on top of him and Josh has to squirm and wiggle his hand away before he gets crushed not being able to hold them up anymore. “You’re killing me, hon.” Freddie finally pulls out and flops on his side while Josh eases himself down, ignoring how sticky he already feels. 

“Just stay. For now, at least.” Freddie says, pulling up the blankets and getting them both to crawl in and pulls Josh in his arms. They don’t do this, the closest they get are the hugs after a win, but this is miles away from that. They unknowingly had their last of those. 

“You have me until morning.” He feels selfish again, but he can’t be too attached when he doesn’t know what his future holds, where he’ll be. He’d love to think they’d extend him, but he’s been cheated before. His final message to the front office is a mixed one with his postseason performance. He wants to stay, wants another try with this team, with whoever stays after all the others with single year contracts go where they will, whatever this team becomes. He doesn’t want to want it as badly as he does.

Josh focuses on Freddie’s arm around his waist, his huge hand splayed between his shoulder blades, almost like he’s holding them down. Thinks about his hand on Freddie’s shoulder and how much he wants to hold his face and give him everything he deserves.

He’s still cold. 

“You’re still thinking.” Josh tips his head up to look Freddie in the eye. 

“It’s hard not to.” He feels the pressure from the hand in his back, pulling him closer to Freddie like they weren’t close enough already. It lets up and backtracks around his waist and up to Josh’s cheek.

“I didn’t do my job then.” Freddie says matter-of-fact. 

Josh preens a little, tipping his head back and giving a weak smile. “No, guess you didn’t.” 

—

Freddie feels a part of his heart chip away at that smile. He knows what Josh is going for, knows what he means by it, but it’s destructive; the upturn of the corners scream _”make it stop.”_

So he does, presses his lips on his to soften the edges. 

“What do you need?” 

Josh shrugs. Freddie turns them so he’s straddle over Josh’s hips. He does it so both his hands can hold him, one on each cheek. In the darkness he can barely see leftover tears and he wishes he caught them earlier; he feels like he’s missed so many aspects of Josh throughout the year because of these. He still doesn’t touch them, this time as a reminder. A punishment. If Josh doesn’t get to them, then they’ll dry and flake off, so he gets that long to ruminate. 

He never says what he needs and Freddie always had to guess until Josh shoved his hands away to do it himself or, if he’s feeling patient, guide his hands where they should be and quiet words to teach him. He’s patient tonight, more than Freddie has ever seen off the field. He doesn’t want to think about why. 

He wants to hold Josh close and treasure him, treat him like royalty because even as close as they are, he still feels like he’s watching Josh from the corners of first to third over a hundred feet away. Freddie holds what he can with his two hands, the cheeks under his palms, and tries to horde the rest with tangling his fingers in his hair while running them back and forth to feel where he’s shaved down. 

He kisses him again and again because the corners of his lips are still hard. He does it like he’s sanding it down: big and broad at first, but more intricate and fine as he smooths them out. Freddie thinks it’s working; he feels Josh hold his face too then wrap behind his neck to keep him here. 

Stay.

Freddie’s never been able to take his time like this, hasn’t been able to explore the flush on Josh’s cheek or the dip in his collarbone. He would follow Josh’s lead, but it’s frenetic and so _Josh_ in that way.

He tries to show his adoration with his mouth, maybe Josh gets the idea when he tips his head so he can get under his jaw and down his neck. He wants Josh to feel kindness, but he doesn’t know how to convey it. He feels his beard scratch Josh’s chest and his nails catch on his skin, he knows he’s doing it wrong. He takes one of Josh’s hands in his, intertwining his fingers so he can only mess up with one hand, this one to keep him stable. 

Freddie spots the welt on his hip when he was hit by pitch a few weeks ago, their last game together in the regular season, the last time Freddie could look over and see Josh hunched with his hands on his knees or looking behind where he was on-deck without having to see NLDS painted in the grass. 

He wishes he celebrated more with Josh when they clinched, to tell him the life he breathed into them, they give back to him in gratitude. 

He thinks about when he’d be on base and Josh would homer them in, how he’d wait for Josh to leap at him.

He remembers June 10th when he and Max had to hold Josh back from throwing sharp barbs because he didn’t want them to ricochet back.

He doesn’t know what Josh must feel like with this lightning season ground to dust with his future unknown, but as long as Freddie doesn’t mar his skin, maybe it’s okay. As long as he doesn’t hurt him.

He refuses to think about missing Josh. Freddie doesn’t want to think of anything. 

His mouth is on Josh’s inner thighs which are messy from the lube and come, so he cleans him up as best he can with his mouth. He feels the muscles flutter and Josh’s small sounds with each pass. At some point Josh’s legs curled around his head and over his shoulders. 

_Stay._

A hand tugs him up; Josh looks disheveled with his hair everywhere and his mouth red, though most of it hidden under his beard. 

“Please.” Josh says simply under his breath.

“I don’t know what you’re asking me.” Freddie rests his head on the leg over his shoulder, still keeping eye contact.

It’s not a response, but Josh pulls his hand again and he unwraps his ankles from behind Freddie’s back, so he crawls up. Josh lets go so he can wrap his arms around his neck to pull Freddie down. The kiss is messy and bites on Freddie’s lips sharp like a paper cut. It gives him clarity and focus. He wanted to do this, _adore Josh_, with purpose. There isn’t time to waste. 

He pushes Josh to tell him what he needs, but he won’t budge; he just shakes his head with a sad look in his eyes, finally a tiny “I don’t know.” But that’s okay. 

He gets a pillow under Josh’s hips and presses back inside. Josh sighs, eyes flutter closed, and his face goes lax like always. Freddie loves this, he feels like Josh lets down all his walls in these seconds. He asks again, says please, but Freddie knows what that one means, so he pulls Josh’s ankles over his shoulders and starts a rhythm. In a rare moment, Josh admitted that he needs the burn on the back of his legs when it’s like this, face-to-face; the angle’s better and he gets to fold Josh in half, so Freddie has no words against it. 

Josh gets louder, sounds out of throat getting punched out, but he starts sniffling. Freddie sees more tears out of his eyes and pooling in the inner corner, but he turns away and it’s Freddie’s turn to say please. He turns Josh’s face to him again. He’s stopped moving his hips to focus on his eyes, the skin around them pink and wet but his eyes crystal blue.

“Are you okay?” Josh tilts his head to Freddie’s hand, so Freddie lays his palm flush on his cheek. “I need you to say something.” He’s worried that he’s hurt Josh, he wouldn’t be able to handle that.

Josh just says, “Please,” but it’s desperate.

Freddie tries to force out a laugh. “Something a little more than that.”

He shakes his head, not refusing, but considering what to say. “Just, more.” 

Relief floods Freddie. “Tell me if I hurt you?” 

Josh scoffs. “I don’t think you could if you tried.” He turns his head to kiss Freddie’s palm. Tonight is a new side of Josh he didn’t think he’d get to have; Freddie’s glad to hold it in his hands. 

He pushes again, thrusts harder and folds Josh more so he hisses and his cock drools on his belly, but he’s not pushed away for it being too much. Freddie has a hand on Josh matching his pace, so it doesn’t take much more to bring him over the edge; him clenching makes Freddie come too. He lets Josh’s legs free, sliding down to catch on his elbow before he moves his arms over them, but Josh keeps them around his waist. He tucks his face in Josh’s shoulder, breathes him in for a few beats, and falls on his side again. 

He takes the time to wipe the tears away and pats his face dry with a blanket. Freddie wants to kiss him over and over and over again until his mouth is sore, then a few more times to get the point across. 

Instead, he pulls Josh close again while his head is in the clouds. It’s good enough.

“Freddie.” Josh takes a deep breath. “I don’t wanna leave.” He probably means the team; doesn’t want his season to be over, doesn’t want to worry about where teams with place his value, doesn’t want the offseason to be here already.

He holds Josh closer. “Then don’t.” Freddie ignores the other ”leave”. He can be selfish too. “You said I have you until morning. I’d love if you stayed longer.” 

Josh hesitates and ends up not answering, just turns to Freddie and hides in his chest, digging under his arms so he can hold Freddie too.

\--

He’s warmer here.

**Author's Note:**

> no i'm not "sad" or "upset" or "emotionally compromised to the point where i can't do anything", what are you talking about


End file.
